


Vin chaud and Biscômes

by LilyIsMilesAway



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Saint-Nicolas, St. Nicholas' Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyIsMilesAway/pseuds/LilyIsMilesAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of studying and working there, Enjolras doesn't know his town's famous Saint Nicholas' Day traditions. Éponine takes upon her to fix it. </p><p>Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vin chaud and Biscômes

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my contribution to the 6th of the 31 Days of Enjonine project on Tumblr. Go take a look, lots of awesome stories there.

Voices. Where was he? That room, it was Éponine’s. Éponine who was snuggling in his arms.

 _Te Tcheu_! Rule number three had been broken! She sighed and snuggled a bit more. He would have gladly stayed in the comfort of her warmth. It was early December and he was naked after all. But the voices, or rather, the voice was coming closer.

He whispered in her ear: “Mmmhponine, I think Gavroche is up. And I think he’s coming h–“

Before he had the time to finish his sentence, the door burst open and Gavroche was ready to jump on the bed, before he saw Enjolras. And jumped anyway.

  “’Ponine!  _Saint Nicolas_ came! Told you I’ve been nice enough!”

Enjolras was too busy trying to keep his dignity intact to listen. It took Éponine a bit of time to correctly wake up and realise how delicate the situation was. Luckily, she was in her pyjamas and quickly took her brother out of the bedroom.

A few minutes later, he was decent enough to join them in the kitchen. The boy was sitting on the table, and was busy emptying a tiny gunny-sack with a little  _saint Nicolas_  sewed on it. Tangerines, peanuts, chocolates and biscômes were spread on the table. Gavroche already had chocolate all over his face and was opening a little box of Legos.

As Enjolras was observing him with fascination, Éponine put a cup of coffee in front of him.

She whispered: “I’m sorry, I should have woken you when I got up to put his  _saint Nicolas_ ’ bag behind the front door.” She smiled awkwardly. “It wasn’t the best day to have an accidental sleepover.”

He was still watching the boy with so much curiosity that Éponine, now sitting next to him said: “Don’t tell me you’ve never celebrated the  _saint Nicolas_!”

  “No, I don’t remember it at all.”

  “Have you ever been an actual kid? It’s like the nicest holiday ever!”

This was the moment Gavroche chose to intervene. “Yeah! And, one day, I’ll be the  _saint Nicolas_!”

Éponine smiled at her brother’s enthusiasm. “Before that you’ll have to get good grades to be able to go to  _Saint-Michel_! Start with eating your breakfast”, she said, whilst pushing his bowl of cereal in front of him.

 _Saint-Michel_? Enjolras knew the school, as it wasn’t far from  _Miséricorde_ , the university’s main building, and from the Cantonal Library, his second home, but he failed to see the link with the holiday.

Éponine, always so perspicacious, saw his interrogations.

  “Even after studying for five years here, you’ve never gone to the celebration in the  _Basse Ville_? The  _saint Nicolas_  is chosen from the students of the  _collège_ _Saint-Michel_. He wins the right to say a satirical speech from the cathedral’s balcony, after a procession from the school. It’s really fun, and you’ll see that this year; you’ll come with us this year! No backing out!”

Gavroche was nodding enthusiastically.

  “Well, I have to go to the market anyway, as the guys have a stand there, so…”

  “I’m glad to see you so thrilled!” Éponine gently mocked him. “No, Gavroche, shower and clothes! It’s almost time!”

Only then Enjolras realised how late it was. He drank the last drops of his coffee and stood up. “I have to go change before going to the office too.”

She accompanied him to the front door. “Sorry again for this morning. I’d say he was so excited by the gift bag, he didn’t notice, but it’s Gav’ and he notices everything.”

She looked so sorry he wanted to hug her. But that was against the rules. And they had already broken one; it was enough.

  “Don’t worry, it’s OK. We knew that something like this would happen. I even think we are lucky it went on so long without anyone noticing. And I kept my dignity intact,” he said with a wink.

He almost went for a goodbye kiss but held back at the last second.

  “See you tomorrow, at the  _café_ _.”_  And he left.

And when the door closed behind him, he realised that he felt relieved.

* * *

 

The next day, as the celebration was always set on the first Saturday of December, Enjolras joined his friends at the little Christmas market on the place not far from the cathedral.

They had managed to get a spot there to sell mulled wine, Christmas tea and a selection of baked goods to get money for one of their projects. Feuilly had been the one suggesting it. If sport teams were doing it, why not them too? Some of the guys, recalling similar markets back in Valais had immediately agreed. The lawyer himself wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Those political market set during electoral periods had always looked like one more excuse to get free drinks. As if Valaisans needed any more excuses to open a bottle of wine. ‘To support the local economy’, right… Valais was producing some really good wines indeed, but he wasn’t sure it was compatible with a good political management.

There were various items on the table, the Christmas biscuits made by Combeferre’s mother, 100 % butter and coming directly from Heaven, Jehan’s  _Zimtsterne_ , obviously decorated by Grantaire. And those cupcakes on the front must be Cosette’s, as Marius was ostensibly promoting them to the two kids standing in front of the stand. On the back, other cakes, certainly baked by the single ones among the guys, made of supermarket dough, that, in the absence of better words, seemed to have lot of…  _character_. In the little  _chalet_ , on the back, next to an immense pan Bahorel and Grantaire were arguing.

As soon as they saw him, they all greeted him warmly. Bossuet immediately gave him a foaming cup of mulled wine. The night was cold, the snow had been there, on and off since mid-November, that cup was most welcome.

And strong!

  “Why did you let Grantaire get close to the  _vin chaud_? He spiked it! I hope you didn’t let him take care of the tea as well! We don’t want to take responsibility of the children’s  _degeneration_! We’re here to help them, remember!”

Courfeyrac laughed at him: “Hey,  _monsieur_  I-Order-Sparkling-Water-At-The-Pub, how can you tell? Your opinion isn’t needed!”

Maybe Courfeyrac was right. He took another sip.

He looked around. “Where is Éponine?”

  “She said she would be a little late. The  _biscômes_  weren’t ready.”

  “Oh, OK,” he replied as nonchalantly as he could, and carried on sipping his mulled wine. He couldn’t hold down a smile though, at the mention of Éponine’s famous gingerbreads. He may be barely familiar with the holiday, but those  _biscômes_ , he knew them well, and if he had to be honest, he could kill for those.

He had to confess; the guys had done a good job with the decorations and all. So much that he didn’t really know what to do to help. So, he sat on the low wall just behind the chalet, where he was sure he wouldn’t disturb them, observing his friends working and laughing, and the crowd all around the place. It was definitely a lovely day.

When, at last, he heard Éponine and Gavroche, he immediately got up, and immediately sat back. It wasn’t wise to go to her like a loyal dog. The other morning had been enough. He just waited for her to greet the others, give them her pastries, before coming to him with another cup of mulled wine.

He thanked her with a smile. And she asked him if he was ready with a wicked grin. He mumbled something, unable to look at her in the eyes. She took a sip of her drink.

  “Fuck! That’s strong! What did they put in it?

He couldn’t prevent himself from chuckling. “Don’t ask me. I’ve been told I was a  _softy_  who couldn’t hold his liquor, when I mentioned that.”

She took another sip. “Mmmh… Rum. They put rum in it! That’s not the regular recipe!” Another sip. “Strong but quite good!”

After a moment, Grantaire came to them, and talked a bit with Éponine, not without being gently reprimanded about the rum in the mulled wine. The lawyer was looking at them joking with each other. With a bit of envy, he had to confess. And he didn’t really know where it was coming from. He just was wishing he could share that complicity they always had together, when he and the young woman had the worst start ever. And it was only working because they were releasing all that tension they had always had by other means.

She gave a look at her watch. “God! It’s time to go if we want to get a good spot to see it all!”

She took him by the hand dragged him through the crowd to the little chalet for last refill before going closer to the cathedral. She didn’t let his hand go until they reached the corner of the  _Rue des Épouses_. He thought he was starting to go crazy, as he could feel a burning warmth coming from her hand, even through their woollen gloves. That mulled wine was really too strong. She climbed on the ledge of the shop window right behind them, leaning on his shoulder.

  “Perfect!” She said, her eyes right on the cathedral’s balcony. “Now, turn around.”

He complied and she kissed him in a way that wasn’t quite decent anymore. He thought he had lost half his brain when she finally stopped. She came down to the pavement.

  “Really perfect!” He looked at her in so much surprise that she added. “Sorry, but I had to. That ledge has the exact right height. And with your rosy cheeks, you’re so adorable. Irresistible, even.”

He scowled a little.

  “Don’t worry, nobody saw us.”

  “That’s not what I was afraid of. First, there are children, all around us, second, I’m not ‘adorable’.”

  “Sure you are! With you golden locks, your red nose, you’re the epitome of adorableness. And I’m finding it really endearing. If I hadn’t promised you a real  _saint Nicolas_ , I would bring you home right now.”

The hubbub progressively stopped and was replaced by cheers.

  “He’s coming!”

  “Where? I can’t see anything with this crowd!”

  “Oh, stop with that! He’s coming from the  _collège_ _,_  by the  _rue de Lausanne_. There will be the  _Pères Fouettard_  first, with their canes, then him, on a donkey. Be ready, because he’ll be throwing sweets and  _biscômes_  to the people!” She added with a smile, “I expect you to catch one for me.”

  “But, you–“

  “ _Chut_! He’s coming!” And she climbed up again.

He had to confess, the procession, the people cheering, the lights, everyone gathered in this little portion of the Old Town was absolutely fascinating. Éponine was cheering even louder than the others, with her eyes so bright, she was absolutely beautiful. He would even have kept his eyes on her the whole time if she hadn’t yelled at him to catch the sweets the  _saint Nicolas_  was throwing. And, in fact, he missed them all.

She gently hit him on the shoulder. “Why are you so tall, and so athletic, if you can’t catch things for me?”

  “You’ve never seemed to complained when I was…” He looked all around them before leaning closer to her ear and whispering things meant for her only.

She looked at him with the most surprised look. “How much  _vin chaud_  did you drink? A sober Enjolras would never say that to me!”

  “A bit too much, I have to agree.”

She silenced him. It was now time for the speech. He had to be honest, it was a rather funny speech, even for someone who wasn’t from the city, like him, who was much more interested in national and international politics than the local disputes. In fact, it was thanks to Éponine, who had lived here most of her life, that he was able to understand all of it. For once, her never-ending rants about everything were useful.

By the end of it, Gavroche joined them. He had a stack of  _biscômes_  and sweets in his hands.

  “Where did you get all of this?!” His sister asked. “No, don’t tell. But give me one. That imbecile didn’t manage to get me one!”

As he was unwilling to share his treasure, she threatened him: “Or you won’t spend the night at Courf’ and Combeferre’s tonight…”

He complied reluctantly and gave her one before dashing in the middle of the crowd as quickly as he had come.

  “Now, let’s join the others”, she said, already walking quickly among the people who were scattering, now that the official festivities were over.

He stopped her. “Let’s take a walk in the market. I haven’t seen it yet.”

She looked at him doubtfully.

  “What? You said I should live the real  _saint Nicolas_  experience today. I’ve barely seen the market.”

He then took her hand and walked in the other direction.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking (that mulled wine was really too spiked!), maybe it was those months of secret sex, he didn’t know, but walking with Éponine in the middle of this Christmassy effervescence felt right. She stopped at a shop where wooden toys were displayed.  He was wandering about, waiting for her to be done, when he saw it.

He was paying when she joined him. They left the stand and he immediately gave her the little package.

  “I hope it’ll make up for earlier.”

She ripped the paper, like a child on Christmas day, to find one of those heart-shaped  _biscômes_ , with sweet nothings written with icing on top of it.

  “I didn’t know you become such a softy when you drink a bit too much.”

He mumbled something about the other ones having childish motives on it, but she silenced him with a quick kiss. He kept her in his arms and gave her a deep kiss, so much that none of them seemed to remember their name when they resurfaced for oxygen.

  “Wow! But… The  _Amis_ ’  _chalet_  is right around the corner. They must have seen us.”

  “I don’t care! The night is too beautiful to hide!”

  “ _Oh mon Dieu_! No more  _vin chaud_  for you!” she commanded before taking his hand and walking to their friend’s stand. All of them were, as expected, already cheering at them.


End file.
